dan torrance (
shine_again) wrote2019-06-11 11:52 pm
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Dan spends his time in captivity finding out what it might have been like if the Overlook had been a medieval dungeon run by fucking goblins. He feels precisely as helpless as he had in the worst of it there, at the beginning, when he's aware of everything. They beat him, of course, because it's a goblin dungeon, and one of them is sneering about tenderized meat. His coat and flannel and t-shirt are taken, though he's left with his jeans and boots. Something about foot-rot, they say. Not very appetizing.
He tries to frighten them, spits more of that strange language at them, and it earns him a cell of his very own, it seems. Now, this has nothing on the Overlook, cramped and slightly wet and cold; he's held to the wall with an honest to god chain, and all he can see from the gaps in the bars is a passageway, and a door on the other side, and fire beyond that door.
Dan thinks he might honestly have been dragged to hell.
The shining is of no use; all he feels is the terror and despair and angry helplessness of others in other cells. And then the dark waves again, which drag him down for hours at a time, and leave him shaking and gagging against his bonds.
He can't think, he can't think for all of the noise of everyone else's thoughts. Oh, but he tries. He thinks of Abra's light shining so brightly, that even across worlds, it might give him something to see by, he thinks of his mother fighting with everything to keep them alive. He thinks of the moment when he'd thought he was safe, his arms around Marcus and Marcus holding him so tight, the warmth of his breath, the little flicker of light kindling in Dan's chest.
He tries to get it back.
He's just so cold, and it's so loud inside his head.
He tries to frighten them, spits more of that strange language at them, and it earns him a cell of his very own, it seems. Now, this has nothing on the Overlook, cramped and slightly wet and cold; he's held to the wall with an honest to god chain, and all he can see from the gaps in the bars is a passageway, and a door on the other side, and fire beyond that door.
Dan thinks he might honestly have been dragged to hell.
The shining is of no use; all he feels is the terror and despair and angry helplessness of others in other cells. And then the dark waves again, which drag him down for hours at a time, and leave him shaking and gagging against his bonds.
He can't think, he can't think for all of the noise of everyone else's thoughts. Oh, but he tries. He thinks of Abra's light shining so brightly, that even across worlds, it might give him something to see by, he thinks of his mother fighting with everything to keep them alive. He thinks of the moment when he'd thought he was safe, his arms around Marcus and Marcus holding him so tight, the warmth of his breath, the little flicker of light kindling in Dan's chest.
He tries to get it back.
He's just so cold, and it's so loud inside his head.
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"You're alright. You're safe," he murmurs, running through all the calming assurances he knows and then some. Repeating them over and over until he can feel Dan's breathing evening out bit by bit.
He's barely been in Darrow for a month and now he's seeing the worst parts of it. Marcus certainly wouldn't blame him for being one of those who wants to get out of this place and back home, where things might still be dangerous, but at least the dangers are familiar.
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Even if this is a temporary reprieve from darkness and loneliness, Dan will take it. Marcus feels solid and real, maybe the only solid and real thing Dan knows for certain exists in this moment. He doesn't want to have to let go.
But no one has ever really held him like this, and never for as long as he needs, so Dan carefully pulls away when he thinks it's been too long. He's sure he looks like shit, and like a crazy emotional wreck when he makes himself meet Marcus's eyes. "Jesus," he sighs. "I'm sorry." His voice rasps. "I should have expected-- the nightmares can get really bad. Really real. I'm not even-- I think I'm awake now. I used to have, uh, false awakenings."
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"Lie down. It's okay if you don't fall asleep again right away, just lie back, it'll help calm your breathing if you're stretched out rather than hunched over," he guides. He keeps hearing what Dan had said about not being sent back, and he's not sure what to make of that, why Dan would want to stay here over returning to the people he must have back home. Marcus wants to be here. But Marcus doesn't have anything waiting for him.
Trying to encourage Dan to lie back again, he slides down a little on his own pillow, slouching back under the covers, gently bringing Dan with him.
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He relaxes, bit by bit, at the steady soothing pattern rubbed into his shoulder, and when Marcus encourages him to lie down, he goes. Acting more on impulse and feeling than anything, he edges further into Marcus's space, testing, the whole set of his jaw asking, pleading for a little more, a little closer.
There's too much for Dan to parse it. He tries to trust what's shining through not to steer him wrong. It hasn't before.
Trusting, some shade of hopeful, he reaches for Marcus's hand, pulling his arm around him and that hand to his chest.
please
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Marcus has destroyed a lot of things in his life, many of them on purpose, but he's learned from Neil not to destroy those who mean something to him.
"S'alright," he says again, settling back on his pillow, turning onto his side and letting Dan wrap that arm around himself. With his palm pressed to Dan's chest he can feel the beating of his heart, pleased to find it slowing bit by bit. "Nothing can get in here. Sabrina's made sure of that. That girl is too bloody stubborn and too bloody talented to let anything get to us inside these walls."
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This means something.
Marcus is giving him something, something Dan wants, just because Dan wants it. Needs it. But it's not as if he feels like it's something Marcus doesn't want to give.
Maybe it'll clear up when he's had some sleep. As for sleep, he can feel it wrapping around him without threat of further nightmare. He'll sleep well this way, he knows, and he can examine the why when it's light again.
"We're safe," he agrees. "And warm." And happy.
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Telling himself there's no reason he should doesn't necessarily work. He shouldn't. There's nothing to feel guilty about, nothing going on here besides Dan needing a friend. If Marcus feels something closer to a romantic attachment stirring, that doesn't mean it's going to come to fruition. He's allowed to look, it's not as if having been with someone and then lost them means he has to return to celibacy even in his mind. And beyond that, Matthias wouldn't tell him not to help someone in need.
But he still can't fall asleep. Because it isn't only that he's helping a friend. These feelings he's been trying to ignore for the last month are a little more difficult to shove down when he's wrapped around the man inspiring them. With a sigh, he shifts a little and presses his face into his pillow and closes his eyes. As long as Dan sleeps, it'll be fine.
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In the light, he supposes, maybe this should seem odd. Maybe this is more intimate than it ought to be. With Marcus's breath on the back of his neck, Dan waits to see if what he's been told about gay panic is looming.
But he likes this intimacy, with Marcus. That's something to think about, if not now. Maybe he should put a pin it it; he's sure now more than ever the darkness won't last.
He turns, but he only moves away just enough to see Marcus's face.
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He inhales deeply, then lifts his hand off Dan and rubs his fingers across his eyes before opening them. Dan is close. Closer than he would have expected and Marcus does his best not to panic or let anything besides a small, lopsided grin register in his expression.
"No more nightmares?" he asks, pushing up in the bed just a little. It's not to put more distance between them, at least not entirely, but he can't quite focus on Dan's face at this close proximity and he doesn't want to spend the entirety of a conversation staring at his mouth.
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"No nightmares," Dan confirms, not entirely able to keep from looking and sounding as happily amazed as he feels. "That-- shouldn't exactly be possible, but it was just sleep." His throat hurts, and he can feel where the skin is trying to heal over under the bandages.
It would be easy to get more information on this, to get Marcus's perspective, but that's not right. Not when Dan isn't sure what's happening. He'll set up a wall, he thinks, like he told Abra, only he'll keep himself in as best he can. He's done it for years; it's exactly what he should do. There's nothing acceptable about digging through the mind of a friend.
Avoidance can look so much like respect.
He tells whoever it is to shut up, but he's aware he's doing a little gazing.
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But the bed is warm and it's comfortable and he hates himself a little to realize just how much he's missed sharing it with someone. He wants to just lie here and look at him. He wants to do all kinds of things he hadn't expected to want again.
"Good," he says. "You needed it. I think we both did."
He finally forces himself to turn over onto his back where he stretches and then rubs at his eyes again before pulling himself slowly into a sitting position. "How does your throat feel?"
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And for the first time outside of the discovery of blood relations in the heat of danger, he doesn't try to put any distance between himself and those warm, comfortable moments. He just lets the corner of his mouth pull up, and then he sits up too. "Hurts," he says honestly. "How's your kneel feel?"
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Everything outside the house is still a mess. Sabrina is still in danger, even though he knows she's capable. The snow is still falling. Those monsters are still out there. But in here, in the bedroom, even just within the walls of the house, he knows they're safe and as selfish as it is, he wants to bask in that for a moment.
"You'll need to let me check on the bandages," he says. "Once we're up. Get some clean ones on there so you can avoid any sort of infection." Another thing he has too much experience in because of demonic forces. Marcus has spent countless moments trying to soothe the wounds of the possession, rubbing ointment on their wrists, putting bandages on the cuts they give themselves.
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The idea of being tended too seems unbearably sweet and strange, and Dan can't quite keep that from his expression. "Yeah, that would be-- good thing I'm up on my tetanus shot."
He already doesn't know how he's going to leave this behind. Whether it's the safety of this place or the shine, he's very certain it will end.
And he'll have to head back to his apartment.
He pushes it from his mind.
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It's the very opposite in fact. It's the knowledge that he could sink back down into this so easily.
"You should stick around here," he says as he eases himself out from under the covers, then stretches his legs out carefully. His injured knee he bends and straightens a few times, wincing at the stiffness, but already the swelling feels like it's gone down. "I don't like the idea of you going back out there until this is all over."
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He gets out of the bed as well, and spends some time stretching, pleased to feel the effects of good rest on some of the aches from yesterday. Or is it yesterday? He doesn't know for certain.
Dan's not quick enough, however, to hide the bright smile at being invited to stay until the winter is done. Beyond the obvious peace he's found here, he likes Kat and Trass, and no small part of him is curious what Marcus's ward is up to out there. "Yeah, thanks. I'd like to stay."
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"There's coffee in the cupboard over the sink if you want to start there," he suggests as he slowly makes his way down the hall to the kitchen. "Or if you'd rather shower first, there are towels in the closet right here. You can take whatever clothes of mine will fit you from the drawers."
Dan's a bit shorter than he is, but not by much, and they share the same wiry sort of frame. He anticipates Dan fitting into most of what he owns.
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"Better be careful," he says, and if his smile is a little wistful, he's not sure he can control that. "You'll never get rid of me at this rate."
It's not until he's actually scrubbing his skin pink that he realizes it'd been a way to say I don't want to leave.
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He gets impatient after a few minutes of this and shoves Marcus's hand away with his nose before going to curl up in front of the fire in the living room.
"Glad to see you're safe, too," he says with a soft laugh and a roll of his eyes, then gets back to his feet to begin brewing coffee. It's just finishing up when he hears the bathroom door open again. He's sure Dan will smell the coffee and come straight here once he's ready, so Marcus begins making eggs and toast for the three of them.
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The feeling of something missing rises for a moment, at the sight of Marcus cooking, at the way it would be easy to have this be every day. He takes a breath, pushing his thoughts to the smell of the coffee instead, and then walks over to pour some. "You too?" he asks, even as he's pulling down another mug. "And is Kat up? Trass is back safe too?"
The shine doesn't appear to really give a damn about boxes and the right times for things, but he can try to divert it, maybe.
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"I think he did some good things up there," he says, but he doesn't elaborate. He doesn't think he can. Whatever Trassel did in Kagura, he won't be able to tell anyone. "And I suspect he'll go back once he's rested."
Because whatever is happening up there isn't over yet. Marcus can still feel it hovering over them, over the entire city. He doesn't need to leave the safety of the house to feel it.
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"Here," he says, gently sliding a cup of coffee Marcus's way, picking up his own for a sip-- only to wince a little. "Yeah, that's going to take a couple days to really start healing up." The raw patches on his neck still look a bit angry too, but he's doing his best to ignore it.
"I meant to ask before, but-- how did you meet Kat?"
A distraction from his throat, at least.
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"She and I met in Chicago," he tells Dan. "Her younger sister was, unfortunately, the victim of a possession. A particularly strong and vengeful demon. Kat- well, you've met her, she has a rather strong will. She wanted to protect her sister." He stirs the eggs in the pan, then looks back at Dan. "She called the police on me for performing the exorcism."
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"You knew her from before you were here?" he asks, surprised even though he supposes it's entirely possible. "I didn't consider it, but I guess there's no reason there's certain number of people from one-- what are we calling them? Realities? Dimensions?" The rest of the story catch up and Dan laughs in spite of his sore throat. "And were you arrested? Does the Church pay bail on things like that, or do you submit receipts?"
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As he finishes with the eggs and toast, Marcus prepares two plates and brings them over to the table. Once Kat comes out, he’ll make a plate for her as well, but for now, it’s good to be off his injured leg.
“But, yes, I knew her from before,” he says. “Her mother was here, too, for a time.” He misses Angela even now. She had become a good friend over her time here and he wishes she was still here. For Kat’s sake more than his own.
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